underside. After a while it produces a pecu
liar delirium.
Dick stops the car and says: "You better
drive. I just saw a boulder on the road. It
turned into a gigantic green apple. I drove
right through it!"
Midnight. Checkpoint El Arco. Chilled, I
don a jacket and ski gloves and pull out, only
to encounter another adversary, fog. But now
we are halfway home. I am consumed with
determination: Get to La Paz, get to La Paz!
2:45 a.m. Click-click-click. Snap! The
speedometer cable breaks, the needle falls to
zero. Then an insistent clanging-a shock
absorber is broken. I creep into San Ignacio.
5:30 a.m. First light of dawn. Dick at the
wheel again. Cardon cactuses and elephant
trees are silhouetted in the mist. Beneath us lies
Driving the Mexican 1000: Rocks, Ruts, and Sand
GUILLERMOALDANAE.
hubcap-deep sand. Cars mired everywhere.
6:27 a.m. Running another gantlet of rocks,
we hear a grinding, sickening noise. Boojum
slows, then stops. Dick shifts gears frantically
but the engine transmits no power to the
wheels-an axle bearing is shattered. Dick
and I look at each other, but there is nothing
to say. We are marooned near a crossroads
called Los Dolores-the Sorrows.
Of little comfort that we are only 123 miles
from pavement, with a clear shot at La Paz.
Small consolation that scores of other vehicles
have suffered similar breakdowns. Red-eyed
and dusty, exhausted after nearly 19 hours of
driving, we contemplate our dismal situation
in the morning stillness.
We have challenged the Baja Road. And
the road has won.
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